That's Just How It Is
by James Austin Valiant
Summary: Carlos recieves some unanticipated affection.


_**Disclaimer: **__I really don't own anything in this entire fic. Carlos is owned by Buena Vista, and everyone else in this story are real people. Other than that, it's entirely a work of fiction. This is only the fourth fic I've ever finished. This fic's set a bit in the future, a few years after high school graduation. Go me, eh? It's rather short and bittersweet, but I've got to get back on the horse somehow, right? Right._

**That's Just How It Is**

**by James Austin Valiant**

Work really never ceased to be work. Whether it was washing dishing, making subs or being an assistant funeral director, Carlos Valerte could admit it: work was work, and it never failed to be somewhat stressful and agonizing. It wasn't that he couldn't do the work; bussing and setting tables at this senior citizen's home was one of the best jobs he had had in a while. The pay was good, he got along well with his boss, coworkers and the residents, and he could do the job.

The cool air greeted the former Black Space Ranger as he emerged from his green and black hued Ford pickup. The weather in Angel Grove had been unseasonably chilly for a summer's eve, forcing him to don a sweatshirt before he left the house. The sound of the car locking made Carlos sigh; he had explicitly told his boss, Shelly, that he wasn't available to work on Thursday nights. It was his night, after all, to do volunteer work down at the local shelter. She had forgotten, as was her way, and put him on the four to eight shift. He sighed again. _There are just some people you can't win with…_

Carlos' other occupations shifted through his brain as he approached the employee entrance, which lead straight to the kitchen. His black apron slung over his shoulder, he recalled his prior exploits. _I was never any good at washing dishes, and making subs was unbearable with Teddy yelling at me all the time, even when I did stuff right. The assistant funeral director gig paid well, but it was emotionally straining and I don't think I could ever get into a business like that. I'm too upbeat. _Carlos smiled at his own observation.

The door to the kitchen burst open before Carlos could even think about reaching for the handle. A small Filipino woman grabbed his arm and hurriedly yanked him into the kitchen.

"Shelly!" He shouted, though not with any trace of anger. "I have to punch in, what are you doing?"

She looked him square in the eye, as was her way. "Carlos, you are late." Her heavy accent was apparent and made her easily identifiable in phone conversations. "You were supposed to be here two hours ago!"

He groaned. "Shelly, you've got to be kidding me! You told me yourself that my shift was four to eight...since when is there even a two to eight shift?"

Shelly dragged Carlos over to the wall where the schedule was posted. "See, it says right here: Carlos. Thursday. Two to eight. And you know since Belinda has been sick, we need this two to eight shift. So don't give me that!" She sounded quite angry.

"Fine, Shelly, fine. Let me go punch in and I'll get right to work." He murmured something of an apology as he tied his apron in the back. _I swear, she told me right over the phone, I had the four to eight shift tonight. I'm never late, and I've never been late once in my life. Heck, when Andros recruited us, that was one of the things he told me he admired about me: my ability to be on time._

Sliding the time card through it's premeditated slot on the machine, the former Ranger went back into the kitchen, in his uniform of black slacks, a white buttoned shirt, black shoes and a black apron. He had often wondered if it was the Power that drew him to the color black, and if that reasoning had anything to do with the fact that he'd been with this job for a little over six months. After graduation, Carlos just couldn't seem to decide on what he wanted to and had bounced around from job to job with little interest in each of them. _All right, let's work._

"Hey, Carlos, man, how ya doing?" It was Warren, the cook.

"I'm good, Warren." Carlos took a quick side glance into the dish room. "Hola, Pablo. Como estas?"

"Ah, Carlos! Bien, y tu, amigo?" The dishwasher's rich Spanish accent thundered back.

"Bien, amigo, muy bien." With that, he grabbed a tray and headed out onto the floor. By now, first seating had wrapped up and it was time to start clearing and resetting for third seating. The reasons for dividing meal time into three different seatings was quite logical; four-thirty was too early for some of the residents, while six could be too late for others. The only real reasoning behind it was the resident's best interests in mind. Of course, when you work such an environment, that's always one of the things that is addressed first: care of the residents.

He glanced around the dining room. Joel and Sydney were working that evening. It made Carlos smile. Joel reminded him of TJ, just because he was witty and knew how to take a joke as well as he could make one. In some alternate universe, Carlos guessed that the high school junior would've made a great addition to any Ranger team. Sydney, on the other hand, was someone that the former Space Ranger likened more to Ashley. While she wasn't nearly as outgoing or bubbly, she was personable and compassionate, tending to the residents like family. The few times Carlos had spoken with her, the conversation had always been a pleasant one.

Carlos began clearing, and noticed his friend Bea was still sitting in her seat. "How are you tonight, Bea?" He asked pleasantly, a small smile on his lips.

She rose her head. "Hello, Carlos. I'm feeling quite well today. We had a tap dancer perform this morning, you know."

"Oh, did you really, now?"

Bea nodded. "Yes, sir. He tapped to all the old Shirley Temple tunes, and I'll tell you something, it was the most fun I've had in ages."

He nodded as he placed coffee cups and water goblets onto his tray. "That's great, Bea. It's good to know that everyone here is being taken care of real well."

"Excuse me, miss, but I've asked you for a biscuit about four times. Do you think I could have one?"

The sharp, shrill tone of Mrs. Olsen was unmistakable; Carlos knew it well, as he had often been the target of it. This time, she had Sydney in her grasp. Mrs. Olsen had been a socialite when she was younger; charity balls, country clubs, the whole nine yards. Since she had been so glamorous before having to move into this facility, she expected to be treated like royalty, which often led to clashes between herself and the wait staff.

"My god, girl, don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Mrs. Olsen was continuing with her tirade, really letting loose on the high school student. "I swear, you have to be some sort of freak. What, can't you apologize? You know, people talk. It's what separates us from the animals, the gift of speech. You should learn to use it. Now get me a biscuit, before I file a complaint!"

Carlos shot a sympathetic eye to Sydney, but she wasn't even looking up. Her blonde ponytail did little to hide the tears that were forming in her eyes, and she uncharacteristically threw down her order slips and ran out of the dining room. Carlos grimaced. _That Mrs. Olsen! She never knows when to shut up! _He intended to deal with Mrs. Olsen later, but it was Sydney who needed his help now.

"Sydney!" He called after her. "Wait up!" She wasn't slowing down. Behind him, he heard Joel reprimanding Mrs. Olsen. "I hope you're happy, because I bet it feels good to make a teenager cry, doesn't it?"

The former Ranger trailed Sydney through the kitchen door and out the back way, to the dumpster area. She had her arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he could hear her sobs quite audibly. Carlos put a hand on her shoulder, and before he knew it, she had collapsed into his arms. Her warm tears soaked through his shirt, and rubbed her back in small circles as she cried.

"Sh, it's okay. Let it out, it's all right...Mrs. Olsen likes giving everyone a hard time." He tried his best to console her. "You can't take what she said to heart, Sydney. You're a great girl, and everyone here likes you. Mrs. Olsen is just being Mrs. Olsen, and that means difficult."

The younger girl's sobs slowed down into sniffles. "You mean it?"

"I mean what?"

"You mean people here like me?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course they do. You, unlike everyone else here, don't have an agenda or an ego or a loudmouth. I think that's what people like about you."

Her eyes met his. "Do you like me, Carlos?"

Again, he nodded. "Of course I do." Before he knew what was happened, she executed a combination of standing on her tiptoes and pulling downwards. She kissed him.

"Cuz, you know, I like you, too, Carlos." Her breath was short, and her eyes and words were innocent in a way Carlos wasn't familiar with.

_Oh man, oh man. _Carlos was taken aback. _What am I supposed to do here? This girl is only sixteen, and I'll be twenty in two weeks! There's no way any sort of relationship could work here, but she's clearly very emotional right now. What do I say? What do I tell her?_

Before he could speak, she piped up. "You...you don't feel the same way, do you?" Sydney shrugged out his embrace. "I figured as much."

"No, Sydney, it's not only that, it's...well, you're only sixteen. I'm going on twenty very shortly. This isn't something that could work. You're in high school; I'm looking to find out where I stand in my life. Our interests, our lives, our goals are completely different. Your goals probably include getting good grades, getting your license, getting into a good school. Mine are paying the rent on time, staying employed, shopping for the best prices." He paused. "It's just not realistic."

She collapsed on a bench that was built into the fence. "But why not? Why does the world always have to be against me? Why can't the world just work for Sydney Drew?"

"I sympathize, I really do." He thought back to his old Ranger days; having Adam's legacy to live up to, getting injured, losing Ashley to Andros (something he had never fully recovered from), being apprehensive in his various lines of work. "I haven't had it easy, Sydney. I didn't always have other people to count on, and sometimes, even if I did, I felt like I was alone. That doesn't mean that I stopped going. Honestly, that was worst thing I could've done. Sometimes, when things get real rough, it's right before they're about to get better."

"I feel like such a doofus."

He chuckled. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's my fault, I guess, for being so damned irresistible."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Well, perhaps that is the case after all."

He offered her his hand. "Come on, let's go see if we can get Mrs. Olsen that biscuit, okay?"

She smiled and took it. "Sure, why not?" Sydney stopped before going back inside. "Carlos?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening."

Carlos Valerte smiled as he held open the door. "Anytime, Sydney, anytime."


End file.
